Breaking Point
by A Word or Two Less
Summary: It wasn't about him, wasn't about any of them, it was about their silly political games. And now he was going to pay in the place of his leader. He says they will save him but Robin has been late before, what if he's late again? AU 2.09
1. Chapter 1

**Full Summary:** It wasn't about him, wasn't about any of them, it was about their silly political games. And now he was going to pay in the place of his _fearless _leader. He says they will save him but Robin has been late before, what if he's late again?**  
****Pairings: **The usual... R/M, W/D as well as some G/M, A/D, and W/M if you squint...  
**Warnings: **(For later chapters) Violence, Language, Suggestive Themes(maybe?)  
**Disclaimer: **If I did own Robin Hood, do you really think 2.12 - 2.13 and season 3 would have ever happened? I didn't think so, so not, I don't own them... Just borrowing without permission for a little while...  
_Short chapter is short, bear with me, my laptop likes to fuck with me and my precious time._

**Author's Notes**: Takes place sometime after 2x9 (Lardner's Ring) in AU time... I tried to get as close to the characters are I dared but because of my lack of fan-fic experience this may be a bit raw written, OOC , riddled with mistakes and slightly Americanized. Because, Americans can do that...

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**Chapter 1**

The knife came down on its prey, slicing it clean in half. The man smiled despite himself and went in for another cut.

"No, Will!" Much yelped, snapping up and thumping the raven haired outlaw atop the head with his large wooden spoon, a soft _thunk _echoing around the camp as it made contact with his skull. Will turned slowly, raising an eyebrow carefully, eyeing the large utensil with a healthy amount of trepidation as he lifted a hand to run his fingers through his hair, wincing as it came in contact with the growing bump just above his crown.

"Bad outlaw!" Were Much's last worlds on the subject as he turned his attention back to the so-called stew that boiled above the fire, the twigs crackling and snapping in the blaze. It was only the two in the camp, to guard the well-hidden masterpiece and cook the outlaws' dinner – _again. _For the _third_ time that week. If they didn't know better someone would think that they were being ignored…

Wait..._ Bad outlaw?_

"Is that the same thing as bad dog?" Will wondered aloud, looking pointedly at Much who shrugged slightly. The older man stirred the 'stew', not daring to turn around. "You just called me a bad _dog_ because I—"

"I really don't know what you were thinking," Much admitted, sighing and turning to the younger outlaw, shaking his blonde head, "Cutting it like that..."

In truth, all Will did was cut the parsnip the wrong way for the 'stew' pot. If the concoction boiling over the fire could be called a stew. He didn't even know if it could be called food but he was far from sure.

"What's wrong with cutting it _that _way?"

"You need to be able to bite it, not choke on it, Will…"

"Well, I'm so very sorry that me mum didn't teach me how to cook, I guess I was too busy _earning a living_." Scarlett snapped quietly, earning a roll of the eyes from the older outlaw.

"Moody… Since _when_ are you moody?"

Pausing to look back over his shoulder, he frowned softly, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. And when he opened them again, Will sighed, pushing his fringe out of his eyes, "When Robin seemed to figure out that I am only useful for guarding the camp and sharpening the stupid dull swords that they seem to have no problem in nicking every time they go out."

Much frowned, shaking his head. "Not gettin' much sleep are ya?"

"No."

Much sighed, nodding in understanding, "Your father?"

Scarlett turned back towards the blonde, shaking his head softly, "Honestly? No... Not really, I-- I know I should be but I'm not, I'm just not."

Peering over his shoulder at the youth, Much frowned slightly, stirring the pot as he dropped a handful of carrots into the mix.

Opening his mouth, Will frowned slightly, hesitating before he spoke softly, "What do you think of Djaq?"

"What?"

"What do you think of her--? I mean _really_ think?"

Taken aback, Much raised an eyebrow. "She's-- She is nice."

The words echoed slightly,_ "I fall in love easily."_

_"Don't worry I don't."_

"That's not much of an answer, Much."

"Pretty, smart, kind, can't cook to save her life..."

Scarlett scoffed, shaking his head as a smile found it's way onto his face.

"Apart from the whole honey euphemism thing…"

Will coughed lightly, "It wasn't a euphuism…"

Stopping, the man-servant whipped around, "What?"

"We really did collect honey but the bees didn't seem too pleased with us…"

Much grinned, "I would suppose not, so where's the honey?"

"Took it to Locksley, that's why were were there in the first place. New mothers and all, thought they could use it..."

"And--?"

"And nothing, you know what happened in Locksley later."

Nodding, Much chuckled. "Will Scarlett; Bee Hunter I'm gunna have to remember that one…"

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's notes:** Well this has a bit of light Allan/Will, not purposely but it just happened and I liked it so it stays, a few chapters might be like that with subtle hints of slash although if you look at it right it will just pass as close friendship. And, course I had to put some OC goodness in here somewhere, tell me what you think of her, if you think anything of her at all… And, I know I promised to have this out on Friday but something came up and I couldn't work on the computer as much as I would have liked to and next time I will make sure to get chapter 3 up quicker once I finish it… : D And thanks to anyone who reviewed last chapter and any chapter before that before I started to rewrite, it means sooo much and I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint!

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**Chapter 2**

Will shifted slightly as he cast a glance out of the camp, biting his lip as a chill burst of air passed through the entrance, the fire flickering for the smallest of seconds. Turning, he sighed, they were running out. "I need to go get some firewood...I'll-- I'll be right back."

"No, I'll get it, need some fresh air anyway," Much stated suddenly, shaking his head.

"Alright."

"Just don't burn the stew!" The man servant added as an afterthought.

"No promises," the teen replied, smirking when Much turned to stare crossly at him. "Kidding!"

The man-servant turned in a huff, walking out of the camp with his nose in the air.

"It does you no good to brood about your '_cooking_'!" Scarlett called after him, hearing the none-too dignified harrumph that followed.

Sighing, he turned to stir the still-boiling concoction that Much liked to call 'dinner'. He, Allan, and Djaq had made it their personal duties to find out what he put in them, if it was really squirrels, which he did not exactly doubt, especially after last winter. Scarlett shuddered at the thought. Winters really were hard. _Still…_ He sometimes wondered if they were all going to be the same, just a cold, just as unforgiving, just as uncaring, one after the other, always harsh and spiteful.

He froze suddenly. _Allan… _He would by lying if he said that he didn't miss the trickster and his outlandish way of doing everything and the friendship that they seemed to share for the months they were together in the forest. But he would also be lying if he said that he had never thought of the other man leaving. And when Robin had confided in him that there was a traitor, he couldn't deny that he silently prayed for it to be Allan, externally hoping that God wouldn't answer his prayers this time.

Ripping himself from his thoughts, Scarlett sighed softly, looking at the stew with a quizzical eye, how was he supposed to know when it was done?

He frowned suddenly, looking towards the entrance to the camp, "Much? That you?" When he got no answer, he frowned, standing as something rustled along the edge of camp. "'Ey, Much? C'mon, is that you or not?"

Scarlett sighed, padding softly out of the camp, looking around with narrowed eyes.

"Gotchya!"

He growled angrily, quickly turning to face his attacker as he fingered his small throwing axe. The man stood not 5 feet away, a heavy sword his hands and a quiver of arrows strapped to his back in such a fashion that it made Will wonder where the man's bow was. A shock of dark sandy hair fell into his face and narrowed green eyes peered out at him from the inside of a dark hood.

"Who're you?"

"Let's make this easy for the both 'o us, yeah? Ya put down your flimsy little excuse for a weapon and I'll go easy on ya, sound good…?"

Scarlett pretended to contemplate this for a moment, at a length he spoke again, "That doesn't exactly seem fair."

"I don't have to be fair, _kido_," The man spat, putting emphasis on the last word.

He grinned toothily, "Well, then neither do I."

Dodging the first blow that swung over his head, he frowned as the man advanced quickly, meeting each of Will's own attacks with three of his own, always coming so close to hitting the young outlaw. But as he twisted out of the way of a stray parry from the larger man, Will hissed softly as his attacker landed a swift, powerful kick to his back that sent him sprawling onto the woodland floor, his axe skidding a few yards away, too far for him to reach it.

_Damn… What am I--? _

But suddenly all coherent thought was whipped from his mind as the blows began; hard and unforgiving kicks to both his back and his front, aimed for anywhere that it might cause the outlaw pain.

But suddenly a voice spoke, sharp and clear, breaking through the haze of pain in his mind, "That's enough! I told you not to hurt him!"

A slender form kneeled beside him, a pair of kind cerulean eyes looking down at him. "Sorry but this might hurt just a bit…" The figure said softly, brushing a lock of hair from Scarlett's face. "Just bear 'wit me, ok? Can you do that for me?" But as a sharp object pricked the hollow of his neck and white hot pain seared through him like lightning, it took all his willpower not to scream.

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Humming, Much smiled slightly as he began to head back towards the camp, hands laden with kindling.

"Much Baker?"

Swinging around as the firewood tumbled to the ground, Much hissed as white hot pain shot through his arm. Looking down, he groaned as the world swam around him, the scarlet blood running lethargically down his forearm from the sudden precise cut just below his elbow joint.

"Calm down, this stuff works fast. And I'd tell you _not_ to move but I don't think you'll listen…"

"Show yourself, or are you a coward? I don't like… Cowards… They—What the hell is this?" Everything was moving in front of him now, colors swan and swayed, the fire leapt at him like it had a mind of it's own.

"I told you, it works fast. It'll wear off, don't worry…"

His eyelids were drooping quickly; he almost had to force them to stay open by opening them with his fingers. "Where are you?" He questioned unfocusedly.

"Over here," The voice, defiantly female, whispered softly, composed and calming, like milk and honey, cutting through the thick fog that seemed to have taken over his mind. Much suddenly found himself following it, blinking as he sat heavily in the center of the clearing he was in as he staggered after whoever was speaking to him.

"Who're you?" Much heard himself slur, whipping his head from side to side before he found sense to stop and stare ahead as his vision swam in front of him.

"My name is Miranda," _Undoubtedly female_. "Look, I don't have that long, you need to listen, ok? Your names Much, right? You're one of Robin Hood's men, yeah? He's a good guy; tell him that for me, okay?"

"Mmmhmm…" He muttered, smiling groggily as a slight burst of movement caught his eye. But when he turned towards it, he felt whatever was with him shift, speaking in his other ear now.

"Stay awake for me, okay? I need you to stay awake…"

Nodding, the man-servant frowned, "Then speak louder… Can't really… Hear juu." "

"I— I can't they'll find me… Just try to stay awake, damn; I gave you a higher dose than I needed to, this stuff works fast…"

"They? Wut stuff…?"

"Listen, go to Nottingham in 3 days for the Midsummer's day feast in the centre. You'll see a familiar face there at the blacksmithing shop with the worn-down green sign, talk to them, they will know what information you need, alright Much? Can you do that?"

"'Course, sounds… easy--," He yawned loudly. The voice gradually faded, leaving completely as a cloud passed over the sun.

She paced a hand on the side of the man's bearded face, sighing softly as russet locks spilled over her shoulder. She pushed them back lightly, tucking a strand behind her ear as she stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles in her blood-red dress, sheathing a small weapon into her belt as she pressed a small tag into the man's hand. "Sleep tight, Much Baker, please don't fail us."

**TBC**

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**Author's notes:** I loved writing the Much bit, it was too much fun…


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's notes:** Chapter three… Finally. I know, it took me long enough. Hope it's worth the wait! And please excuse my rambling; I can't seem to keep a straight train of thought going lately… I worked for a really long while on this, writing and rewriting more than a few times to get this right and listening to god knows how many songs over and over again as I worked. I work with no beta so I have to be my own (because I am cheap like that)

**Disclaimer:** (I realize that I probably need to put one) Nope, I do not own them as there is really nothing to own now that the series is over. I only own the ones you don't recognize.

**Song(s):** The Haunted Music Box by SirFiNiX and Cry of War by Loren4444 on newgrounds

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Chapter Three – Strangled Memories**

_Pain._

That was the first thing that registered as his eyes fluttered open, a dull aching pain radiating up and down his spine and the swift pounding on his heart as it beat sporadically in his chest, the gears in his mind kicking in action. Sweat clung to his thin body but he did not feel the heat that caused it. On the contrary, pinpricks of cold seemed to seep into his body as he came to, his blood icy in his veins.

But then the memories came back, sharp like the finely tuned edge of a dagger. He closed his eyes against the sudden onslaught of both the physical and mental pain that seemed to course through his body in waves, each one strong than its antecedent, threatening to wash over him and overpower what little will the man had as his sluggish, pain-dulled mind struggled to right itself and distinguish itself from everything that was happening.

But as he looked upwards, involuntarily shuddering as his back pressed against cold stones and as his throat constricted painfully, familiar coffee-coloured eyes met his own. "…You…"

"Me." The voice held a hint of boredom but he did not miss the slightly amused and relieved tinge that accompanied it, like who ever this person was they did not like waiting, even for the likes of him.

Will's lips were dry as he replied to the simple answer. "I should have known you'd be behind something like this."

Miranda stepped up to the bars that separated the two, hair pulled behind her in a tightly braided bun. Pulling a face at the raven-haired outlaw, she replied evenly, "I always am."

As he coughed experimentally, he turned green-gold eyes on her"…Why…?"

She stopped"Hmm? Oh well, I mean—"

"Why not… Kill…"

She cringed at the words, biting her lip as her mind worked frantically for a response.

He fingered the bandage wound around the base of his neck, a finger rubbing soothing circles on his aching throat as he cringed, letting a slightly tremulous sigh leave his lips, eyes narrowing to slits.

"Because…" Crouching down on the cold flagstones, prepared to answer him with any logic that she could think to pull into an answer to such a question, she peered at him through the bars. Scarlett turned his eyes to her, dilated pupils nearly swallowing the green, and all power she thought she had over him crumbled with that one withering look, "Sorry…"

His eyes narrowed further in disbelief and she smiled softly, "You're… not forgiven…"

"I know…"

Despite himself, Scarlett smiled softly, abandoning his wounded neck and pulling his cloak tighter around his body, "its bloody freezing down here..."

"Well it is a dungeon, it is November, and it is the lowest level."

"And you are annoying but that is beside the point," Scarlett retorted half-heartedly. Stopping to look at the tawny-haired girl, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean _lowest level_? I thought the dungeon only had one level…?"

"No, in fact it has 5, two of which are not in use any more because of poor construction, and the third – _which we're in_ - is the only one used specifically for those the sheriff likes to torture on a daily basis…"

After a momentary pause, Will looked up, meeting Miranda's eyes with a slow intake of breath, the cold air burning its way to his lungs as he fought the urge to shiver. "Oh, that's nice…"

"Sorry, what d'you want me to say?" She questioned, throwing her hands up in exasperation, lowering her voice to a dangerous level, "'_Oh, this one is for Robin Hood's infamous outlaws.'_?"

Ignoring the jest, Will replied, "Well, it might be a bit more comforting, y'know, if the Sheriff didn't already torment us when we get caught regardless of _where _we _are_…" Scarlett let out a puff of heated breath into the air, the white fog drifting away and disappearing quickly as he closed his eyes, resting his head against the suddenly welcoming stones that dug painfully into his already sore back, embracing the chill that they gave off.

_He felt so hot… _

"Sorry," She winced as he sighed softly again, the irritated, and slightly pained, edge not lost on her, "_Really._"

"I know."

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He blinked groggily as the world flooded back to him and a rush of mangled colours and bright – almost blinding - blotches of sunlight through bare trees. Groaning, he sat up from his somewhat comfortable position, nestled between the camp's rope wall and his own curled up blanket, the wool scratchy against his skin as he tugged at it.

"Where am I?" The words left his lips instantly, his head pounding with the effort to stay conscience. Much silently cursed himself, struggling to sit up right as his thoughts crashed down on him like torrential floods, memory returning to him in a flash. The former manservant sprung up instantly, looking around wildly.

He didn't _remember_ coming back to camp.

And he sure as hell didn't remember undressing.

Giving out a high, almost bird-like, screech, he pulled the blanket tightly around himself if only to save what remaining dignity he might have had. There was a soft chuckle as a hand pressed gingerly against his shoulder, easing him back onto the bunk.

A highly accented voice drifted to him, a hint of amusement in the way it was spoken. "You're at the camp, Much, where else?" Djaq laughed as she bent over his arm, wrapping a soft bandage around his elbow. Did he injure it?

"Where's… Girl?"

The Saracen stopped her work to glance up at him, eyes alight with worry. "Girl? What girl?"

"Girl in… Forest – Went to get… Firewood? Yeah… Saw… Heard – heard?... Girl

and- and..."

"And…?"

But Much just shook his head crossly at himself, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed, world beginning to swim again as he desperately tried to form words into a coherent sentence and tried to keep his groggy mind on a straight path.

_That girl, who was she? And what did she say?_ Much shook his head, he didn't see a girl. How could he have? _Why _would he have?

_But_, his mind prompted mildly, his inner self waving nonchalantly as the less rational part of his brain flailed frantically as it spilled forth incoherent babble, you _didn't really see  
her, you heard her. _

_In my mind, no doubt, _he chided himself softly, stopping mid thought to curse again_. _Oh, dear God, was he going mental? No, no, he couldn't afford to loose his mind! That was the last thing he needed!

_Where could she have gone? Surely, she couldn't have gotten far._ After all, he had only fallen asleep for – _Fallen asleep,_ his brain questioned fuzzily. When did he do _that_?

A voice drifted to his groggy, sleep-deprived and numbed mind, coaxing him back to consciousness. "… had us worried there for a little while, Much, you were out for days after we found you!" There was a hint of worry in Robin's voice as he spoke.

Had something happened?

Wait… Days? No, no, can't be right. He only slept for a few minutes at most! They must be mistaken, surely! He didn't sleep for days, no, no… Did he?

Did he?

His eyes shot open, shaking his head. His mouth was suddenly dry, the words that passed his lips just as brittle and cracked "… days?"

"Yeah, three."

Much looked around, a single memory filling his head. Without thinking a name found its way past his lips, familiar as his own but it left a foul taste in his mouth. "Will?"

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"My lord?" Sir Guy questioned lightly, raising a dark eyebrow. A'Dale stood behind him, tapping his foot none too patiently but none too loudly either, mind a mixture of shock and a slight giddy happiness that he couldn't place as the older leather-clad man shot him a fractious look from over his shoulder. Allan grinned perkily but said nothing.

"Yes, Gisborne..." The Sheriff drawled, looking up from his place at his desk, grinning in that oddly eccentric and senile way that would make anyone's skin crawl – with disgust or the like. And by the look on Gisborne's face, he was no exception, no matter how good of an actor he may have been. Allan smirked at him, raising an uneven sandy brown eyebrow. Sir Guy rolled his eyes and turned his full attention, no matter how unwillingly, back to the balding sheriff.

"What are we going to do about the outlaw? I mean, he isn't much use to us, only a carpenter's apprentice if Allan is telling me the truth and my memory does not desert me."

"But isn't that useful?" Vaizey questioned, drumming his fingers on the top of the wooden desk, sounding not at all interested with the words that came out of his mouth. "Surely, we –as in the people who can afford them," he laughed lightly at his own cruel joke, "- need carpenters to build things, tables, homes, chests... The boy could be of some use to us, albeit only a little if he ever is at all. Besides, I don't think Hood would be too happy if we killed him, do you, an _innocent _villager-turned-outlaw?" He chucked darkly.

Both Gisborne and Allan shook their heads, both having learned just to agree with the Sheriff long ago and both knowing exactly what the man was implying.

But suddenly, Sir Guy scoffed, turning to peer at his employer, scowling slightly as he looked at the balding man. "Use _him_? For what exactly, pray tell? Making _tables_?"

"No, if I am right, he makes things that are much more useful than tables, although tables do have some very creative uses, don't think, Gisborne?"

Allan blanched.

**TBC**

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**Author's Notes:** End chapter three… Pay no heed to the unintentional slash mentioning, I didn't mean it, it just wrote itself in! Chapter four should be up in a matter of days, a week tops depending on my schedule for the week. I do start school in two days…AH! Two days! (On another note, please review! It would be so very much appreciated and feel free to point out any of my mistakes, I would love a critique!)


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